It’s Thanksgiving in the United States. In Uganda, it’s just another Thursday.
I am thankful for the God that has pursued me halfway across the world. I am thankful that as trying as this experience has been, it’s stretched and broken me in ways that only God could have forseen.
I am thankful for the people I’ve met here. I live in a room with three other girls and it’s a quasi-college dorm experience that I never had.
I am thankful for the occassional emails from my dad giving me ways to press on through the next couple of weeks. I am a double-digit-midgit.
I am thankful for the frequent phone calls from my mom just to see how I’m doing.
I am thankful for the sweet little baby at the water tank named Shannon who made me even more excited to see my little sister in just a matter of weeks.
I am thankful Ruth spoke to me last night. It seems as if the incident that happened the other night is a mere memory.
I am thankful for the delicious street food in Nansana. I’d take a rolex over a burger any day in the States.
I am thankful for the care packages that have been sent (or attempted) to me. The thoughts behind them have given me the strength to get through the next few weeks.
I am thankful for all the comments and emails from my friends and family. You will never know just how much those have meant to me.
I am thankful for the simplicity of Uganda. The way nothing depends on electricity is unfathomable in our society.
I am thankful for the dirty and dust-ridden roads that grant me the most initmates moments with Jesus and my Grandma Olive.
I am thankful for the school system in Uganda, even if I do find it quite flawed. Every child in school means there is one less on the streets.
I am thankful for the rainy season. It’s put me to sleep more times than I can count and it provides water.
More than almost everything, I am thankful for these children. They have captured my heart and left imprints on me I can’t yet see. They have changed my life, shown me unconditional love to the Nth degree. I will forever remember Gift dancing, all the sweet notes Allen wrote me on her worksheets, Alice and Natasha teaching me to dance in the garage, all the kids mocking my skirt shaking dance. There are so many moments I wish I could relive time and time again.
But even more than that, I am thankful after setting this passion in me three years ago that God has seen it to fruition. It wasn’t what I though it’d be. It’s me at my rawest and Jesus at his truest. Amen.
I love you and I miss you. I hope you have blessed Thanksgiving.